


Memories after our parent's farewell

by RaspberryDevil



Series: A bouquet of Zinnias [5]
Category: Fairy Tail
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:10:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaspberryDevil/pseuds/RaspberryDevil
Summary: They hadn't killed their parents. It's a truth they hadn't talked about yet, a fact which changed so much and yet left them unaffected. At least for a year until everything comes back at once. Sting and Rogue are faced with the challenge to talk to other people about their feelings until they find comfort in each other's arms.





	Memories after our parent's farewell

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted to write a story in which the two talk to people outside the guild, so it's only 1/3 Stingue which happens at the end. Tried to make this extra nice though. Heads up, Laurentin is an OC who appeared in Path of self-discovery, no need to know him. Reminder that Skiadrum is female in this series. Just because I want to. Hope you enjoy this story!

It all starts with an offhandedly uttered comment which triggers a nightmare.

  
  
Rogue rarely had these nowadays. He doesn't scream when he wakes up, not like Sting when he used to dream of losing Lector. Instead, he sits straight up, breathing heavily and sweaty. The dream remained in his thoughts clearer than he would have liked and while it came unexpected, he knew the reason behind that: It's been a year since he knew that he hadn't killed his mother and yet he had never talked about it. He made his peace with his past, pushed it aside in favour of looking after the living. But maybe he had been too naive.

  
  
Because them not having killed their parents changes everything.

  
  
  
“Can't remember seeing you in such a bad shape before”, Rufus comments when he sees him in the guild the next day; Rogue thinks it's an understatement, but he is thankful that he isn't too direct.

  
“I dreamt of mother.” 

  
Maybe it was the sleep deprived state which caused him to say that, or the loneliness the dream let him feel. Nevertheless, this simple statement cause a look of confusion on Rufus face. Right, he thinks, it's not like he had been that open about his past. Nobody besides Sting or their Exceed would have understand this, who he is referring to. So he simply says:

  
“Skiadrum. The dragon who raised me.”

  
  
“Oh, I see. Maybe you should talk to someone.”

  
  
Who can be more comforting, is what his words implied. It's not like he doesn't want to help, doesn't want to comfort him as a friend. It's just easier said than done and with the tension lately, it's hard to admit anything personal like this. However Rogue also guesses that Rufus doesn't mean anyone but Sting. Their master needs someone to talk to as well, or so he assumes. Rufus is the one among them with the best observation regarding their feelings, even if he still had to learn when exactly to say something or just lean back and be amused about it.

  
“Maybe.”

  
But Rogue isn't sure if he can talk to Sing about it. They just started dating a few weeks ago and there were other things to talk about first. He is glad that his boyfriend is also his best friend, something which should mean they could talk about anything. Some things were still raw though and – in their memory – he killed his sick mother while Sting ended the life of his father who wanted to make him stronger. He feels like he can't complain. A stupid thought.

  
  
“If it robs you of your sleep – both of you – I'd say it's something neither of you should ignore”, Rufus tells him, the rest of his concern hidden behind a smile; Rogue shrugs.

  
“I'll try to remember your words.”  
  


Rufus expression falters for a second, but once he tugs at his head to pull it down and partly cover his face, an amused expression is back; Rogue has to smile as well, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes.  
  


* * *

  
  
It's probably not a good idea, but when Rogue saw the note for a mission near the guild of Blue Pegasus, _he_ had been the first person which came to his mind. The job would leave him a bit of time to think more clearly about approaching the guild and in case he does think twice about it, at least he had earned some money instead of turning in front of the gate like a coward.

  
  
In the end, the mission is easier than thought. The real struggle is after that. And it's not just walking up to the bar, ignoring the few amused and confused looks he gets.  
  
  
“Oh Rogue-chan what can I do for you?”

  
  
Master Bob seems delighted to have him here, not bothered by an unannounced visit or suspicious of his motif. Sometimes Rogue doesn't give him enough credit.

  
  
“Hello... is Laurentin-san there?”, he asks, looking around and spotting all these beautiful people who dress so fancy that it might have made him feel insecure if he cared more about his appearance.

  
  
“What a surprise”, the red haired mage says, showing up behind him as if he had been summoned, curious, “how can I help?”

  
  
Rogue had thought about the right words but standing at the bar with the Master present, the light and music, he doesn't feel confident enough about it. Picking up on his behaviour, Laurentin exchanges a quick look with his master who nods before he gestures him to a room. Upon entering it appears to be the master's office – it's tidier than Sting's, that's for sure – and Rogue is thankful for this quiet. But he also feels slightly uncomfortable, sitting down on a sofa. The other one doesn't pressure him. Waits. Until Rogue manages to explain himself.

  
  
“We were told to talk more about our feelings... but its complicated. You're the first person I had to think of.”

  
  
“Go ahead. I'm a good listener.”

  
  
Rogue takes a deep breath. And talks.

  
   
There isn't really much he can share about in the first place, (not with Fairy Tail involved in the whole Tartaros business), but he can tell him that they found their master and Minerva. Fought one and brought another one back home. It's not the main problem though.

  
  
When he tells him about his mother, it feels like a relief. He hadn't killed her. It was not him using her weakened state to get stronger. But at the same time it had been his anchor. She had been ill in his memory but still a dragon. It was the only promise to beat dragons like Acnologia, a possibility to protect his friends. Now this hope was gone.

  
  
They are sitting in silence after he finished.

  
  
“Feeling better?”, Laurentin asks, is mindful enough not to touch him, clenching his fist so that he doesn't reach out on instinct; a comforting touch is never done with ill intention, but he can tell that Rogue only accepts these from close friends and he was just a guy he kissed once.

  
  
“Yes. Thank you.”

  
  
“Don't worry, I can't imagine going trough that. It's tough. So, how about a drink?”, he suggest, amused when Rogue wrinkles his nose as if he remember the last time he drank something; like a teenager which feels betrayed by a colourful drink which tastes disgusting.

  
  
“I pass.”  He isn't really good with it nor does he like the taste that much. Not to mention that he has to go back home instead of staying at a hotel and he wants to do so sober instead of losing his way. Not that this had ever happened before. (He blamed Sting.)

  
“Fine. Then try a none alcoholic Cocktail. Master makes the best.”

  
Rogue appears to mull over the invitation, a moment of hesitation, before he nods. Being alone after talking so open doesn't sound very promising in the end.  
  


 

  
(Once Rogue leaves, Bob looks after him, shaking his head with a smile.  
  
“Oh, so that was the cute guy you have been mourning about.”  
  
Jenny hums, gaze following Rogue; Laurentin just buries his head in his arms on the counter, groaning.  
  
“Why are some women and men just so cute?”  
  
 Another guildmate pats his shoulder sympathetically.  
  
“Same.” )  
  


* * *

  
“Sting?”

  
Partly surprised to see him of all people, partly relieved to see that is is using the door and not breaking in, Lucy almost misses his composure. But even then the silence with which he had knocked or the overall missing enthusiasm would have been enough to show her that something is wrong.  
  


“Sorry to bother you.”

  
Her expression softens before she steps aside.

  
“No, it's fine. You're welcome.”  
  


He nods as a thank you, sitting down on the sofa she gestures him to. Seeing that he doesn't seem to know what he is supposed to say, Lucy allows him a bit of time to sort his thoughts, preparing them some tea. It's been a while since she saw the master of Sabertooth, even though they never really had a proper conversation. That's why Lucy was curious, wondering what might cause him to seek her out. There is not much she has to offer, she believes.

  
  
When she sits down next to him, he thanks her for the drink but can't bring himself to look at her. She doesn't mind. Then he takes a deep breath.

  
  
“I just thought... you've been with Natsu so long, how does he feel? After his dad... died.”

  
  
Lucy smiles with a sad expression.

  
  
“To be honest? We haven't talked about it. It's a bit difficult.”

  
  
“Oh, I see. Sorry.”

  
  
She shakes her head, showing him that it's nothing to mourn about, at least not now when he is the one searching for her solace. And she tries to give him at least that, lending him an ear.

  
  
“How are you feeling?”

  
  
“Relieved”, that he hadn't killed his father, “embarrassed”, for pretending to have killed a dragon, “and guilty” because he hadn't realised that he had been close, still protecting him. He had cursed him at some point of his life, hated Weisslogia for leaving him behind. He tells her that and Lucy smiles.

  
  
“And? Feeling better after talking?”

  
  
Sting blinks. Confused. Until he realises that his shoulders aren't as tense anymore, fingers wrapped around his cup while he finally managed to look her in the eyes. It's a year too late, probably. But better late than never, he thinks.

  
  
“Yes, thank you.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
“We've come far.”

  
  
“Huh?”

  
Rogue raises an eyebrow, facing Sting. He hadn't expected him to say something. The other one had sneaked in his bed at some point in the middle of the night and hadn't moved since then, lying on his back while starring at the ceiling. Rogue doesn't ask why he is still awake or complains though, after all he isn't sleeping as well. Too much thoughts in his head at once. It seems to be the same case for Sting who turns his head to look at him.

  
  
“Getting advice from people –  friends – outside the guild. Something we wouldn't have done earlier.”

  
  
Rogue wonders if he had done the same, searching for someone to talk about his father's death, trying to understand his own emotions trough a different perspective. Apparently. Though he isn't really sure whether this is something they should talk about. Now, at least.

  
  
“Yes.”

  
  
Eventually, Sting rolls over so that they are lying face to face, able to look each other in the eyes. It's dark but they are close enough so that Rogue can spot the longing and sadness.

  
“Have I told you about the day Weisslogia brought me to the sea? I was so confused when I wanted to drink the water and it was salty. He had just laughed.”

  
  
The change of topic doesn't surprise Rogue as much as he would have thought. He simply goes along with it and tells his own story, a smile tugging at his lips (he doesn't enjoy the misfortune of others but imagining a little Sting grimacing was too hilarious).

  
  
“Skiadrum and I were in the mountains. There were springs and she scolded me when I wanted to bath in them. She showed me how to bind leaves to drink from them though. It took me a while since she could only instruct me with her words – her claws were tearing the leaves.”

  
  
“Dad tended to be a bit clumsy with his explanations as well. Besides, I wasn't a fast learner. But in the forest we were, he always had something to show instead of tell. Made things easier.”

  
  
“Mother had always shown a lot of patience and never raised her voice. She did nudge me with her claw once in a while when it was taking too long.”

  
  
There is a glint in Sting's eyes and Rogue almost asks what he is thinking about. But when he sees the grin, he assumes that he just tries to imagine how a little Rogue gets pat on the head by a dragon. He hates to admit it, but it was kind of an amusing thought.  It's easier, after that, exchanging stories after story, eventually laughing. Their lives surely had been different, despite of being raised by a dragon. Rogue wonders how it could have been, growing up with Sting while their parents had still been alive. He hopes that they would have been proud of them.  
  
(He hopes they had been proud before dying.)

 

  
Only when the stories started to be a bit more embarrassing, tension slowly lost which loosened their tongue, did Rogue end the talking, manages to shut him up with a kiss.

  
  
“Foul play”, Sting mutters, but he grins when they are resting their foreheads together; the silence which follows leaves them room to think, to let everything sink in – the change of mood crashes down on them at once.

  
  
“I miss her”, Rogue croaks, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to keep the sudden tears from falling.

  
  
“Yeah, me too”, Sting replies, allowing Rogue to press his face against his shirt, chin resting on top of his head.

  
  
They should feel weak – they would have, years ago – about mourning their parents' loss. But instead their heart aches and Rogue realises it's okay, that it's normal to feel that way. Ignoring it had been unhealthy and now everything they had pushed away came back at once. At least he had Sting with him, to share the pain. Feels his hands on his back, slowly moving up and down, trying to comfort him. Rogue sighs.

 

"I love you", he whispers against his skin, hopes that this is enough to say how much he appreciates him.

 

Sting hums, pulling Rogue to him as close as possible, feeling the warmth of his body, listening to his breathing. It's nice like this, always had been. The nightmares don't change this. It lessens the fear of falling asleep again. And while these dreams stick with them for a while longer, after talking some more, they begin to fade until the good memories remain.

 

  
(And when they tell their son about their parents for the first time, they can do so with a smile.)


End file.
